Past Life
by WhoStarLocked
Summary: Pavel took it and yanked the boy into a hug which was eagerly returned. He could feel the warmth from the boy spreading into his chest. He knew from that moment that Aleksei was the same as him. They both knew. Pavel is struggling to cope with his emotions on the Enterprise. Can Jim help? It's better than it sounds. Rated M for language.


Pavel Andreivich Chekov woke with a start. He glanced at the clock on the table besides his bed. 08:32. He sighed inwardly. He was still not used to working at 9:00, even though he'd been working the alpha shift for almost three months now. Then he realised that it was the 16th of November. Trying not to think of home, he dragged himself out of bed and clumsily reached for his uniform. As he yanked it over his head, he mulled silently over the date. Although it was not the day that most other people remembered, it caused Pavel pain. Every year. This year promised to be no different than the rest. He'd once heard Grigori asking people why this day upset him. _"__I don't know,"_ someone had replied. _"__Nothing of importance happened today…"_

_Nothing of importance?_ Pavel thought furiously. _No, it was just the day he had… _He stopped. He willed himself to stop thinking. They hadn't known about today and neither did people on the Enterprise. It was going to be the same here as it was everywhere. He groaned and walked into the small bathroom that he shared with the helmsman. He splashed water onto his face and straightened his hair. Pavel glanced swiftly in the mirror. Why? All the Russian could see were similarities. Similarities between his face and a face that was etched into his retinas. He knew the image would haunt his every waking moment today.

As he made his way to the bridge, Chekov grappled with his emotions for control. He knew he could not let anyone know. He wouldn't hear the end of it on this ship. Sometimes, living and working with the same people all day every day had disadvantages. The bridge team, especially, had become a family. They were bound to notice if he let his feelings show.

Chekov settled himself into his navigator's chair with a heavy sigh. Captain Kirk wasn't on the bridge. That was good. No-one paid him much attention as he sorted slowly through what the computers in front of him were showing. Sulu looked up at him and smiled. Chekov gave him a tentative half-smile in return.

"Something up?" Sulu asked quietly.

"No!" Pavel responded instantaneously. His helm partner glanced at him curiously. As Sulu was about to speak, the doors slipped apart with their usual hiss and Kirk strode onto the bridge. People exchanged cheery morning greetings with each other. Chekov ignored the grins and "good mornings" that were directed at him. They were so familiar that they sent the warm glow through Pavel. It only made him feel icier.

"Good morning Chekov." Jim said slowly from behind him. He knew, then. Chekov could sense that Jim was waiting for him to reply. _Of course he is, _Chekov thought angrily. I never normally ignore everyone on the bridge.

"Good morning." He replied. It sounded stiff and cold, even to him. They all would know something was wrong. Pavel kept his eyes fixed steadfastly on his console.

"How are you?" Jim asked. Pavel rolled his eyes discreetly. Why was he so determined to elicit a response from him?

"Fine. And yourself?" he asked tonelessly. Chekov could feel Jim's intense gaze settling on his neck. He ignored it.

"Fine." Jim didn't speak again, and neither did Chekov. He kept his eyes down and only muttered sullen, expected replies.

At 1:00 they were relieved for lunch and piled into the turbo lift. Chekov wedged himself into a corner and tried to avoid catching anyone's gaze. He noticed that Kirk was still watching him. Pavel immediately switched his gaze to the floor.

"Pasha, you joining us?" Sulu asked as the turbo lift came to a stop. Chekov shook his head mutely.

Alone in the lift, Pavel sighed. They all knew something was upsetting him. He knew they would all try and find out what it was.

He knew it was no good. There was no way he could go back to the bridge. Not today_. Any other day… _Pavel thought miserably. Any other day he could've battled through it. But the 16th of November? Impossible. There were too many bad times associated with it for him. It was too much. He sent a message to Spock, knowing that he would back at his post. Within minutes, a reply came through.

Chekov,

Your message has been received and understood. You were not yourself this morning. Go and see Dr McCoy.

Kirk

Pavel did a double-take at the signature but there was no doubt in his mind. The captain had seen his message and replied, not Spock. On most other days, he would've run up to the bridge to see why Jim would've read Spock's message. But today, he couldn't bring himself to care.

He lay down on his bed and looked at the ceiling, trying not to concentrate on anything for too long. Time passed and Chekov lost count of the hours and minutes. He let them trickle past him – he didn't care at all. He just wanted this day to end. This thought prompted a stream of thoughts about home and his family. Pavel let himself slip into his memories and for a while, everything was fine again. One memory in particular came back to him.

_The cold harsh climate had had no effect whatsoever on his happiness. Nothing could quell this fire in his veins. His cells burned with the very recognition of belonging. The rightness of it shook his body and mind until it had a hold over his very core. The sharp, freezing draught and the sensuous feel of light burning his face felt so right that he couldn't believe that anything would ever make him leave.__ "__Pavel Andreivich!" The terse shout dragged him away from focusing on the feeling. He shuddered but to no avail. The heavenly fire coursing through his veins would not loosen its grip on him. He turned to look at the caller. His father was making his way along the platform towards him. In front of him was another young boy. "Pavel," his father repeated now that he was close enough not to shout. "Pavel, this is Aleksei Ivanovich."__Pavel smiled brightly at the boy. "He's ten. He's going to be starting on the ropes with you."__At this, Aleksei stuck out his hand towards Pavel smartly. Pavel took it and yanked the boy into a hug which was eagerly returned. He could feel the warmth from the boy spreading into his chest. He knew from that moment that Aleksei was the same as him. They both __knew._

A quiet knock on his door broke his reverie. He glanced quickly at the clock as he called "Come in." 18:02. Twelve hours. How was the day only half done? Pavel looked over at the door to see captain Kirk outlined by the light. He smiled reassuringly at Chekov as the doors slid shut behind him.

"I see you didn't take my advice." He quipped as he walked further into the room. Pavel frowned at him. "I told you to go see Bones." Jim watched his navigator closely as he let his eyes slide shut. The man was only young – fresh out of the academy - and being Chief Navigator was no easy job. Had it become too much for him? Jim wondered.

"I'm not physically unwell." The young man replied, still with his eyes closed. Jim noted, with some concern, that Chekov's desk was untidy. Kirk had come to appreciate that it was never a good sign if Pavel's possessions were out of place. Sulu had often told him that Pavel was just naturally tidy and couldn't stand to have things in disarray. Jim glanced around the rest of Chekov's sparsely decorated cabin. Three of the walls were bare. The fourth had a small collection of pictures on it. Jim drew his eyes away quickly. His navigator was a deeply personal man and he felt awkward enough in Chekov's room, let alone looking at his pictures.

When it became apparent that Chekov was waiting for him to leave, Jim replied. "I still think you should go and see someone, even if you just talk to them." He silently sat down at the man's desk and waited. Chekov didn't move. If it wasn't for the harsh sound of his breathing in the dimly lit cabin, Jim could've believed he was dead.

"That would be no good, sir. I don't want to talk about it." Chekov murmured gently. Jim smiled even as his insides stilled. He felt downright evil, tricking the man.

"Talk about what?" he asked, his tone filled with false innocence. Chekov merely opened one eye to look at him.

A small smile played over his lips and it was obvious he knew Jim was herding him towards the one topic. "Good trick, captain, but not one that I'm falling for." _I'm not that stupid… _the words came back now and a deep pain swelled in his heart. _Another boy, another time, another conversation._ It repeated in his head like a mantra. "Please, I'll be fine tomorrow." He added in a hoarse whisper. Chekov simply couldn't think about _that_ and talk. He could hear Jim rising slowly from where he had sat.

"Chekov," the captain said soberly_. You're not okay. Just tell me… _It's what Jim desperately wanted to say to the man but it wasn't within his rights as a captain to pry. "If…" he cleared his throat, "If you ever want to talk, there'll always be someone who'll listen." Jim managed. When he got no response, he let himself out of Chekov's cabin.


End file.
